


make every last moment last

by roane



Series: As Long As You're Mine [2]
Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Choose Your Own Ending, Fix-It, Friendship, M/M, Multiple Endings, Reunions, yes it's BOTH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 16:44:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7900204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roane/pseuds/roane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke and Biggs reunite on Yavin after the events on the Death Star, and fulfill a few promises to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. this is all I want to feel tonight

Luke thought when they got to Yavin that the worst would be over for a bit. The princess was safe, the plans hidden in Artoo had reached their destination. He was tired and heartsore and—while yes, he had every intention of joining the Alliance however they’d have him, and who only knew what he’d do with what Ben had taught him—right now Luke just wanted to rest.

But even his fatigue couldn’t beat back his curiosity on seeing the hangar full of X-wings and Y-wings and assorted other fighters and freighters. There were more ships here than he’d ever seen in one place in his entire life. He couldn’t resist wandering away from Leia and Han to go look at them. 

He was looking up at an X-wing, wondering what it would feel like to fly it, when he heard, “Luke? It _is_ you, I knew it!” 

Luke turned around only to practically run into the one person he never expected to see here. Biggs caught him in a enormous bear hug and—after a second’s recovery—Luke returned it, laughing.

“Biggs! What are you doing here?”

“Could ask you the same thing, skyboy.” He let Luke go, but kept a grip on his arms. Biggs wore the same drab grayish fatigues as most of the other people around, a far cry from the uniform he’d worn on Tatooine, and miles away from the last time Luke had seen him, that last night in the sand.

Luke wanted desperately to hug him again, to kiss him hello, but he wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was, so he just stood there and felt stunned. “I—I came in with—it’s a long story—”

Biggs looked at him more closely. “What happened?” He gave Luke a little playful shake and smiled. “I know you didn’t ditch home just to come find me. Did you?”

Luke shook his head mutely. So much had happened, he didn’t know where to start. “The Empire—” He stopped again, feeling the lump forming in his throat.

“Hey.” Biggs finally must have sensed something was wrong, because he steered Luke away from the bustle of pilots and technicians to a quiet corner. He put his hands on Luke’s shoulders. “Tell me, what’s wrong?”

“Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. They’re—” Luke swallowed. “I couldn’t do anything to stop it, I was too late, the stormtroopers—” He couldn’t make himself say it. 

“Luke. Oh damn it, kid, I’m so sorry.” Biggs pulled him back into a hug and Luke wrapped his arms around Biggs’s waist tight, giving in to the luxury of hiding his face against Biggs’s shoulder. He didn’t cry—he wouldn’t cry—but he could hide, just for a minute or two. 

“Come on.” Biggs put his arm around Luke’s waist and started walking. “I’m not on duty for another couple hours. You gotta tell me everything.”

They wound up in Biggs’s quarters—which from the looks of it he shared with at least two other pilots—with a tiny flask of something that threatened to burn off Luke’s nose hairs when he sniffed it. 

“It’s awful, but it’ll work,” Biggs said. “I think one of the engineers brews it in a fuel tank.”

It _was_ awful, but it burned down Luke’s throat and lit a small fire in his belly. He offered the flask back to Biggs, who shook his head. “Duty soon.” 

They settled on Biggs’s bunk, facing each other, sitting knee to knee with their hands linked. “Okay. Start from the beginning,” Biggs said.

Luke didn’t want to. He didn’t want to talk about anything. What he wanted more than anything was just to crawl into Biggs’s arms and stay there, but he couldn’t, and Biggs wasn’t going to let him go without giving him the full story. He started from the beginning: Artoo’s message, and talked—with occasional help from the flask—right up until the moment he found Biggs. Luke’s voice only faltered twice: talking about finding the ruined Lars farm, and talking about Ben’s death. 

By the time he was finished, he was afraid to look at Biggs, not sure what he’d see. He expected disbelief maybe. Instead he found quiet awe. 

“You. You’re the one who found the Princess?” Biggs shook his head, a smile slowly dawning on his face. “You’re a hero, skyboy.”

“Well it wasn’t just me—”

“Stop right there. You’re a hero.” Biggs was beaming now, his dark eyes shining with pride. For the first time in days, Luke felt a sense of hope, of something being right in the universe. “Damn, kid. I knew you’d be one someday, but you move fast.”

Luke ducked his head and laughed. “Had to keep up with you, look at you, already a rebel.”

“Come here.” He pulled Luke closer by the hand and finally, _finally_ , leaned in and kissed him. It might’ve ended there—the other pilots could walk in any minute—but Luke couldn’t help it, he made a _sound_ , and Biggs grabbed him around the waist and pulled him closer still, drawing Luke into his lap. 

After everything, the idea that this was real, and here, and happening… it was almost too much. Luke could only wrap his arms around Biggs’s neck and meet him kiss for kiss, the engine-brewed alcohol making everything burn even brighter. Biggs murmured his name, a helpless little sound that sent a thrill down Luke’s spine.

And then a loud klaxon sounded throughout the base, nearly making Luke jump out of his skin. 

“Damn it,” Biggs muttered. “That’s the signal for all hands. Something’s up.” He stood Luke up and joined him. “Come on.”

That was how Luke wound up sandwiched in the back of a briefing room, listening to the news that the Death Star was on its way to Yavin, would be there within twelve hours. His eyes met Leia’s across the room and he saw his own thought echoed there: _we led them here_. 

He didn’t need anyone to do the math for him. He saw how the room—as crowded as it was—didn’t have nearly enough people to take on the Death Star. There were more ships out in the hangar than there were pilots. He’d bet every credit he had on it, if he had any. 

When the briefing ended, Luke made his way to where Leia was talking to the general. Leia squeezed his arm. “Luke, where did you get to?”

“I ran into an… old friend.” Luke rushed ahead before he could lose his nerve. “Leia, General Dodonna—I’m a pilot, and I want to help.”

He half-expected them to laugh, even as short-handed as they were, but instead they sent him off to one of the squadron leaders, a gruff older man who look one skeptical look at him and put him on the flight simulator. 

“You only died twice,” was his answer when Luke had finished. “That’s better than most of the other pilots we’ve got. Red Squadron can use you.”

Biggs was waiting for him when he walked away. “Red Squadron, I heard.” His eyes were a little uncertain, but he smiled and gave Luke a playful shove. “You’re flying with me again, kid.”

“Like I’d fly anywhere else.” 

“Hey! Luke!” Han interrupted, storming over. He barely acknowledged Biggs, before pulling Luke away by the arm. “What the hell are you doing? Leia just told me. You’re not a fighter pilot.”

“I’ve been flying since I was a kid, Han, and they need pilots.”

“They don’t need you to commit suicide! Come on, you saw what was left of Alderaan. Twelve hours from now that’s all that’s gonna be left of this moon.” There was a look in Han’s eyes that Luke wouldn’t have believed possible. Han was scared. 

“But we can win—”

“Luke.” Han shook his head. “Me and Chewie are getting out of here. There’s room for you and the Princess. Hell, your friend too, if he wants.”

Luke glanced over to where Biggs was waiting. A flicker of doubt clouded his thoughts. What if Han was right? Maybe it would be better if… 

“Can’t keep fighting the Empire if you’re dead,” Han said, as if reading Luke’s thoughts. “We clear some of you out, if the worst happens, you can fight another day.”

Biggs wouldn’t leave. And Luke wouldn’t leave without him. He shook his head. “No, I can’t. I won’t. Why not fight with us? They need pilots, and you say you’re one of the best.”

Han shook his head, then sighed. “It’s your choice, kid. We’re going in the morning, first thing.” He cracked a grin. “Gonna be a hell of a party tonight, sounds like. If you, uh, wind up needing somewhere to go, your bunk on the _Falcon_ is still open.” His eyes cut to Biggs and back to Luke so quick that Luke nearly missed it. “Guessing the troops here are pretty crammed together.”

Luke was blushing, but he nodded. “Thanks.”

“And if you change your mind… just stay on board.”

#

There were strict orders that no one was to drink any unapproved alcohol before the anticipated attack tomorrow, but as far as Luke could tell, no one was paying attention to the orders. He even spotted Leia taking an illicit sip of something from one of the many flasks that went around. The officers were turning a blind eye. There was an odd sense of freedom around the temple, almost fatalistic. Whatever came tomorrow, tonight they would live and celebrate.

Luke stuck by Biggs’s side, meeting the other pilots he’d be flying with the next day. They seemed to accept him as one of their own without question. Whether that was because he already had Biggs’s approval or if they just welcomed any new pilot, Luke didn’t know. 

For his part, Biggs was delighted to actually meet Leia, bowing so extravagantly over her hand that Luke almost got jealous, until Leia tipped him a wink. “I’m not surprised bravery is a Tatooinian trait, but nobody said anything about dashing good looks.”

Biggs caught Luke around the neck with one arm. “That’s because Luke and I got them all, Your Highness. The rest of the planet is…” He mock-shuddered.

Leia laughed and Luke got a glimpse of who she might be, outside of a war, away from the threat of imminent danger, and realized she wasn’t much older than him at all. He wasn’t surprised—Biggs could bring the best out of anybody. He pushed at Biggs, grinning up at him. “Hey, they’re not all bad.”

Biggs made a ‘ehhh’ noise, see-sawing with his hand.

Leia shook her head, still smiling. “In any case, I’m glad to meet you finally. Luke’s talked about you.” To Luke she said, “I’ll find you later.” She pulled him into a hug and whispered, “I can see why you wandered off. Hang on to him.”

Luke’s cheeks got hot, _again_ , but he hugged her tightly. He half-wished that she would take Han up on his offer to leave, but he knew she wouldn’t. 

When the dancing started, Luke took that as his cue to get out while he could.

“Aw, come on, Luke,” Biggs held on his hand, laughing, trying to pull him back.

“Not even for you.” He grinned, holding his ground. “Come on.” He tugged Biggs’s hand, heading for one of the temple doors.

It was cooler outside, the air heavy with damp and the strange, foreign smell of green and living things. The jungle surrounding the temple base was the farthest thing from home Luke could have ever imagined. The two of them walked, hand in hand, a little ways from the base, neither of them speaking.

Luke’s insides were a twisty, fluttery mess, when Biggs spoke. “Glad you found me.” He stopped walking, and turned to face Luke. “And… maybe I shouldn’t be, but I’m glad we’ll be flying together tomorrow.”

“We always said we’d take on the Empire together someday.”

Biggs chuckled, pulling Luke into his arms. “Someday came a hell of a lot sooner than I thought it would, that’s for sure.” They stood that way, wrapped around each other, Biggs resting his chin on Luke’s shoulder. 

It was inevitable that one of them would pull away enough to look the other in the eye, inevitable that one of them would lean in for a kiss. Biggs’s mouth was tentative against Luke’s at first, tentative and overwhelmingly sweet. When he finally pulled back, his eyes were soft and warm, glowing at Luke. He shook his head. “Sorry, I just can’t wrap my head around it. You’re _here_ , you’re really _here_.” He kissed Luke again, and this time the sweetness between them caught fire. They stumbled a bit, until Luke got Biggs’s back against a tree, pressing tight against him. 

With each teasing touch of Biggs’s tongue against his, Luke felt a quiet, burning desperation slowly growing in his chest. He wanted to drown in this feeling, wanted to let this _need_ swallow him whole. When Biggs pulled back, Luke braced for disappointment.

“Luke, we can’t, I’ve got two bunkmates and—”

“I have a berth on the _Falcon_ ,” Luke said quickly, forcing himself to meet Biggs’s eyes. “It’s small, but I don’t share it.” He wasn’t sure that was enough—he remembered Biggs’s words on Tatooine: _I don’t want to be with you while we’re both thinking that it’s never going to happen again._

Luke rushed ahead. “Whatever happens tomorrow, I don’t want to look back years from now and kick myself. And I don’t want you to either.”

Biggs caught Luke’s face between his palms and kissed him hard, searchingly. “Tomorrow’s going to be fine. I know it is. And tonight…” A slow grin formed on his face. “Just how big is this berth?”

“Big enough. And there’s a bed,” Luke said, a little breathless. 

“Well then, that’s the important part.” He laughed and took Luke’s hand. “Come on. It’s gonna get cold out here soon.”

“It’s already cold out here!”

They made their way into the hangar, which was dark and quiet. The _Falcon_ sat by herself, running lights on, warm light shining from her open ramp.

Luke didn’t think Han or Chewie were back yet, but they tried to move quietly through the corridor anyway.

“You flew here in this?” Biggs asked. 

“She’s tougher than she looks.” Luke was startled to hear himself with some of Han’s defensiveness in his voice. 

Biggs laughed and squeezed his hand. “Easy, I’m not insulting your friend’s ship.”

“Better not be.” Luke glanced back at him and grinned. “This ship’s the reason we’re not dodging your bunkmates tonight.”

“I love this ship, this is the best ship in the galaxy,” Biggs deadpanned. 

“That’s better.” 

Luke’s berth was essentially empty—it wasn’t as if he’d brought anything from home with him. Sooner or later he was going to have to worry about finding new clothes. He’d washed what he had as well as he could earlier, but there was no disguising that it’d been through a trash compactor. 

Once the door was closed behind them, both of them got more uncertain. Biggs sat on Luke’s bunk and rubbed the back of his neck. “I dunno, skyboy. I’m away from you for a couple of weeks and what do you do? You get religion and run off with a pirate.”

“I didn’t run off with a pirate, I hired him.”

Biggs laughed. “You know that’s not actually _better_ , right?” He patted the spot next to him, looking serious when Luke sat down. “What I’m saying is, I think I’m not going to let you out of my sight for a while.”

“Good, because you’re stuck with me now. I found you.”

“Damn my luck anyway,” Biggs murmured. The two of them pulled together by the same invisible force that had brought them together the first time. The kiss turned hungry in no time, and together they slid up onto the bunk proper, Luke pulling Biggs down with him. 

“You’re not stopping me this time, right?” Luke teased. The answer had to be no; they were already starting to pull each other’s clothes off. 

Biggs looked down at him with the most deadly serious look Luke had ever seen on his face. His voice was low, seemed to curl up in Luke’s belly like warm honey. “No stopping. Not until you say so.”

Luke shivered and spoke before he lost his nerve. “I love you, Biggs.”

No arguing this time, no trying to make him take the words back. Biggs pinned him down with the weight of his body and kissed him until the room was spinning around him. “I love you too. Always have.”

#

Sometime deep in the night, Luke woke up cold, covered with nothing more than Biggs’s arm and leg thrown over him in sleep. He wriggled them beneath the coverlet, turning on his side to look at Biggs in his sleep. That thick, dark fringe of eyelashes rested against his cheeks, his expression so sweet and peaceful Luke could almost cry. Of all the things he’d dreamed of doing with Biggs, this had never occurred to him. Something in his chest hurt, not like a cut or a bruise, just a deep and steady ache, like part of him had been missing all along, and was slowly starting to heal. 

It was a good hurt, in other words, and Luke nestled back against Biggs and closed his eyes, feeling the way their breathing slowly synchronized.

When he opened his eyes again, his gut told him it was morning, or close enough. Biggs stirred next to him, cracking open one eye and looking at Luke. “So I didn’t dream the whole thing,” he said, his voice sleep-fogged. 

“Well, not all of it, anyway.” 

“What time is it?” Biggs turned his face toward the pillow and burrowed into it for a moment.

Luke craned his head to find his chronometer. “A little after 0500. We should get up soon.”

Biggs grumbled into the pillow and reached for Luke, pulling him back close and burying his face against Luke’s neck. “No.”

In his head, a voice echoed, _And if you change your mind… just stay on board._

He could. He could just let them both go back to sleep, and by the time they woke up, they’d be lightyears away from the Alliance, from the Death Star. From danger. And if the worst happened here today, they’d be alive and together.

But Biggs might never forgive him, either. 

Luke nuzzled the top of Biggs’s head, holding him tight for several long minutes, then sighed. “If we don’t get up soon, Han’s gonna take off with us still here. You wanna miss your shot against the Empire?” He said it lightly, but if Biggs still didn’t get up, Luke was going to let him stay, and they’d wind up wherever Han took them.

“All right, all right.” Biggs lifted his head, gave Luke a kiss. “Come on, let’s go save the galaxy, then I’m dragging you back to bed.”

#

Luke didn’t even have time to claim a flight suit before the briefing, and sat there feeling out of place while the plan was laid out. One of Biggs’s bunkmates, a Corellian named Wedge, was soundly skeptical. Luke wasn’t sure he blamed him, but he had a feeling, deep in his gut, that this plan was going to work. 

After the briefing, he got into his flight suit for the first time, dressing in the nearly empty ready room. Biggs double-checked his gear for him, made sure everything was connected the way it was supposed to be, that all the life support systems and back-ups were in place.

“You be careful up there, hotshot, you hear me?” Biggs caught him by the collar of his suit and kissed him hard. ““Don’t try anything fancy. I’ve got your back, but there’s no extra points for style, okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” Luke said, and shoved his hand against Biggs’s face with a grin. “ _You_ be careful. I hear you got partnered up with some dumb farmboy.”

“Farmboys will surprise you,” Biggs said. “I know one I’d trust with my life.”

They parted while Luke still glowed with warmth. The burst of optimism made him try one last time to convince Han to stay, to no avail. He said goodbye to Leia, then climbed into his ship. 

He soared off out of the atmosphere for the first time, his heart racing in his chest. He glanced back, and just out of the corner of his eye, he could see Biggs back and to his right, grinning at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could not decide whether to write a canon-compliant ending, or a fix it. So I wrote both. Chapter 2 is canon-compliant. Chapter 3 is not. Either one might've happened.


	2. and the sky might catch on fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One possible ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had several people ask me if I was going to write a canon-compliant ending to this story or go with a fix-it AU.
> 
> I couldn't decide, so I did both. 
> 
> Chapter 2 is the canon-compliant ending. Chapter 3 is the fix-it ending. You can decide which one really happened.

Luke sat on the edge of Biggs’s bunk, looking at his hands. They didn’t look any different. They were still his hands. They didn’t look like the hands of a killer. He covered his face with them. 

He kept waiting for the numbness to wear off. Sure, he’d been smiling when he’d climbed out of his X-wing. He’d hugged his friends, the ones he still had left. He’d heard people praising him, cheering for him. And he wore the right expressions, said—hopefully—the right things. But inside there was nothing.

In his mind, Luke could still hear the hiss of dead air when Biggs’s comm had gone offline for good. One heartbeat, Biggs was at his side, the next he was gone, leaving Luke with nothing but static in his ears. No scream. No last words. Just… nothing.

He’d be hearing that static in his head for the rest of his life.

Leia told him about the ceremony they had planned, and gently suggested that Luke ask around for clothes to borrow. They wanted to give him a medal. One stupid lucky shot, and if he’d just made it a few seconds earlier… _Biggs, it should be you, not me_. 

There was no one left. Everyone who had known who he was before: Owen, Beru, Ben, now Biggs… they were all gone. _He_ was gone too, that farmboy. Maybe he’d died with Biggs. Maybe he’d died a few seconds later, when Luke launched the torpedoes that killed over a million people. For the first time in his life, Luke was entirely alone, with no idea who he was anymore.

If Biggs were here, he’d probably laugh at him, but gently. _“Come on, Luke, snap out of it.”_

But he wasn’t here. Biggs Darklighter wasn’t anywhere in the galaxy anymore. Luke wasn’t going to turn a corner and see him smiling, wasn’t going to listen to him trash talk Luke over the comms, wasn’t going to—

Wasn’t going to wake up next to him and see that sleepy smile. Not ever again.

For a moment, Luke couldn’t breathe, trapped under the weight of that realization. _This must be what drowning feels like_.

Why couldn’t he remember Biggs’s laugh? He must have heard it a million times, how could he have forgotten it already? Just static in his head. Nothing else. Even the last stolen kiss, just before Luke climbed into his X-wing, was fading, wiped out in the supernova-bright flare of the Death Star.

Maybe that was Luke’s punishment. Maybe killers didn’t get to have happy memories.

He was still sitting there when Wedge came in then nearly backed out when he saw Luke. “Hey, I’m sorry—”

“No, it’s okay, I’ll get out of your way,” Luke said, standing up. 

“Wait. Skywalker—Luke—I heard you didn’t get here with much. You’re not that much smaller than me, if there’s anything you wanna borrow…” 

“Thanks, Wedge.” 

He wouldn’t look Luke in the eye. _He feels guilty. He thinks if he hadn’t had to pull out of the fight…_ Luke didn’t know how he knew that, exactly, but he knew it, as well as he knew his own name. 

“It wasn’t your fault. What happened.”

Wedge didn’t say anything, but turned to go through his footlocker. He pulled out a black shirt, held it up toward Luke appraisingly. “This should work.”

Luke realized then that pilots didn’t talk about their losses. Not in any straightforward way. He could lock this ache away and keep flying like they did, or find another way to cope. He took the shirt. “Thanks.”

“I’ve got an extra pair of pants, but…” Wedge eyed Luke critically. “You’d have to try them, I don’t know.”

That was how Luke wound up alone again on Biggs’s bunk, but this time wearing borrowed Corellian clothes, complete with some sort of borrowed Corellian military honor that Wedge had tried to explain while Luke half-listened.

“You should see if someone has a jacket you can borrow,” were Wedge’s last words. “I don’t have an extra, but someone else might.”

“Thanks, Wedge.” Somehow, despite neither of them having talked about anything important, Luke felt like he’d just gained a friend.

Maybe he didn’t have the right (if he didn’t, who else did?), but Luke found himself crouching at the foot of Biggs’s bunk, staring at his footlocker. After a moment’s hesitation, he opened it. 

Right there on top, in the small pile of personal possessions on the right, was a holo of the two of them, squinting against the Tatooine suns, their arms around each other. They were standing in front of Luke’s T-16, so he’d probably just won a race. While Luke watched, they smiled at each other, then Biggs pushed him away, laughing. He wished he could hear that laughter in his head, but all he heard was the static of an open comm line.

In with the clothes folded neatly on the left hand side, was a bright butter-yellow jacket. Luke’s eyes stung fiercely and he sat back on his heels, pulling the jacket with him and holding it to his chest. Biggs had been so damned proud of that jacket, showing it off around Tosche Station before he’d left for the Academy. Fixer and the others had sneered at Biggs, saying he was putting on airs, but to Luke he’d been impossibly beautiful. 

Luke stood up and shook the jacket out, holding it out in front of him. On a whim, he pulled it on. It was a little big: long in the arms, falling a little farther below his waist than it should have. Wearing it felt like a disguise, like he could pretend to be the farmboy hero for just a little while.

#

Han gave a low whistle when he saw Luke. Aside from the two of them, Chewbacca, and a few honor guards, everybody else was waiting inside the main hall. “You clean up pretty okay, kid.”

Everything he had on was borrowed, except for the jacket. The jacket was his now, along with the holo he had tucked in an inner pocket. “I have some friends with decent taste.”

Han stepped closer, and lowered his voice. “You doing okay?”

“Not really.” Luke said it with a smile though, knowing that any minute he was going to be marched out in front of a crowd. 

“I’m sorry, kid. I really am.” Another voice in his head from someone else who felt guilty. Luke couldn’t do anything about it. 

Seeing Han just reminded him of Biggs, sleepy in the _Falcon_ , reluctant to get out of bed. And if Luke had just left him there, just stayed there with him...

“I can’t—I can’t right now.” Luke straightened his shoulders, hearing the start of a fanfare. 

He knew what Biggs would do, if he were the one in Luke’s shoes. He’d hold up his head. He’d smile. Luke felt the weight of Biggs’s jacket on his shoulders and let it ground him. Then he lifted his head and put on a smile that went no deeper than his skin, and stepped out into the light.

 _I always knew you’d be a hero, skyboy_.

Luke straightened. Had he—Ben’s voice was real, he knew that, but was that—

No. There was nothing more. No sense of a presence that he felt when Ben spoke to him. No feeling of the Force gathered around him. He was still alone. No ghost, just a memory.

And then it was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might've happened that way. Read on to see how else it might have happened.


	3. the universe is resting in my arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The other possible ending.

Luke sat on the edge of Biggs’s bunk, looking at his hands. They didn’t look any different. They were still his hands. They didn’t look like the hands of a killer. He covered his face with them. 

“Hey, kid. Come on.” Biggs shook his shoulder. “We’ve got to find you something to wear or the princess is going to have my head.”

“Yeah, sorry.” Luke put on a smile that still didn’t feel quite right. 

Biggs sat next to him and slipped his arm around Luke’s waist. “You saved a hell of a lot of people out there. Including me.”

“That wasn’t me, that was Han.” Luke still remembered hearing Han’s triumphant yell just in the nick of time. 

“Who came back because of you.” Biggs reached over and cupped Luke’s jaw, turning him to look him in the face. “Look. I know. Okay?”

“You can’t.”

“I can. First time I shot somebody down I came back here and stayed drunk for two days because I didn’t want to think about it.”

“Somebody said there were over a million people on—”

“Luke. How many people were on Alderaan, do you know? How many people on this planet?” Biggs’s eyes burned into his, holding him there and not letting him look away. “The people on the Death Star knew they were fighting a war. What about the people who just live their lives here in peace? The innocent bystanders?”

It was a hellish equation, and none of the numbers made sense to Luke. He looked into Biggs’s eyes, trying to let some of his faith in Luke wash away the doubt he felt.

They were still sitting that way when Wedge came in, only to start to back out. “Hey, I’m sorry—”

Biggs let Luke go. “No, it’s okay. Trying to figure out how to make this kid look good for the ceremony. Any ideas?”

“He’s not that much smaller than me, let me see.” Wedge went rooting through his footlocker, coming out with a black shirt, holding it up in Luke’s direction. “That might work. 

Biggs’s eyes lit up. “Perfect.” He grabbed the shirt and tossed it at Luke. “Always did wonder what you’d look like in black.”

Wedge eyed Luke critically. “I’ve got an extra pair of pants, but… you’d have to try them, I don’t know.”

“The ones with the bloodstripes?” Biggs asked, sounding surprised.

“I’d say he’s earned ‘em,” Wedge said with a shrug. “Bet Captain Solo would agree with me if you wanted a second opinion—if he doesn’t have a set I’ll eat my boots. But we’re not exactly in touch with the Corellian chain of command anymore.”

“What are you talking about?” Luke looked between them. 

Wedge waved a hand while going through his footlocker again. “You tell him.”

Biggs grinned at him like he was about to bust. “Corellian military honor, awarded for extreme courage under fire.”

“No, Biggs, that’s not—”

“Here we go,” Wedge said, holding out a pair of brown pants with yellow piping down the side. “Ain’t official, but I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Luke looked from one to the other, these two men who’d seen more than he had, fought in multiple battles. Had killed enemies, if maybe not as many as he had. And they were both looking at him like an equal. Like… a hero. 

He took the pants. 

Wedge cleared out, saying, “You should see if someone has a jacket you can borrow.I don’t have an extra, but someone else might.”

It took much longer for Luke to change clothes than it ought to have, because Biggs kept stealing kisses, grabbing for every bit of bare skin that got revealed. Luke fended him off, laughing in spite of himself. “Will you stop, I’m gonna be late.”

Finally he managed to get dressed and Biggs stepped back, looking him over. “Nope. You can’t go out there like that.”

“What? Come on, I don’t have anything else to wear, it can’t look that bad—”

“Sorry, kid, you go out there looking like that and you’re gonna cause a riot.” He turned and crouched in front of his own footlocker, rooting through it. “Let’s see…” He brought out a bright yellow object that Luke instantly recognized.

“You still have that?”

Biggs shook out the jacket, holding it up. “First thing I ever picked out and bought on my own, yes I still have it.” He helped Luke into it. It was a little big: long in the arms, falling a little farther below his waist than it should have. But it felt right. It felt like home. 

Unbidden, he saw a very different present there, saw himself pulling on this jacket only because Biggs wasn’t there to wear it. Saw just how alone he would have been.

Luke pulled Biggs into a hug, sudden, fierce, and tight. “Thought I’d lost you there for a few seconds.”

“I thought you had too.” Biggs tightened his arms around Luke’s waist, pressing his face into Luke’s hair. “All I could think was ‘at least it’s me and not him.’”

“Don’t say that, don’t ever say that.” Luke made himself take a deep breath. “If Han hadn’t come back, or had come back just a few seconds later…” 

“We’re here,” Biggs murmured soothingly. “We’re both here and we did the right thing.”

“It was you or them,” Luke realized, everything clarifying in his mind in a flash. “You, the princess, the rebellion.” That wasn’t even a choice. He’d pick Biggs every time, over anything or anyone.

“That’s war, Luke.”

Luke seized him again and held on as tight as he could. _It’s you, it’s you, it’s you_. No matter what. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d received a second, maybe a third chance. 

Biggs eased him away, adjusting Luke’s collar. “There. Now you’re ready.”

“Are you finished dressing me now?”

Biggs pulled him back in by the jacket and brushed his nose against Luke’s. “Just wait until later. I’m gonna have even more fun undressing you,” he murmured against Luke’s mouth, ending in a long, heated kiss that nearly made Luke throw out this whole idea of going to any ceremony at all.

In fact, he whimpered when Biggs let him go, straightening the jacket one last time. “Come on, hotshot. Your public is waiting.”

#

Han gave a low whistle when he saw Luke. Aside from the two of them, Chewbacca, and a few honor guards, everybody else was waiting inside the main hall, including Biggs. “You clean up pretty okay, kid.”

Everything he had on was borrowed, but he wasn’t going to tell Han that. “I have some friends with decent taste.”

Han stepped closer, and lowered his voice. “Kinda pissed at whoever gave you the bloodstripes though.”

Luke shot him a worried look. “I know they’re not mine—”

“No, I mean, I was gonna do that. Who beat me to it? It was Antilles, wasn’t it, the bastard.” Han grinned. “They suit you, kid. When all this is done, we’ll get you your own for real, you earned them.”

“Hey Han—”

Han glanced over, one eyebrow raised.

“Thanks. For coming back when you did. I owe you one.” The words weren’t enough to convey his gratitude, but anything more effusive would just irritate Han.

“I’ll keep that in mind, kid.” Han flashed him a grin. “Just don’t make a habit of needing saving, okay? You or your boyfriend.”

Luke straightened his shoulders, hearing the start of a fanfare. 

He fought the urge to wipe his hands against the borrowed pants. Biggs was out there, and he’d be watching. The weight of Biggs’s jacket on his shoulders felt like Biggs was standing behind him, his hands on Luke’s shoulders. The thought made Luke smile for real, and he glanced at Han as the two of them stepped out into the light.


End file.
